Unchecked
by Xela Xe
Summary: The Final installment of the Checkverse: Spike died to save the world...so how will Buffy get him back?  Spuffy
1. EpiloguePrologue

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! What the HELL made me do this again?!"

"Breathe, luv. You're almost there." Spike held Buffy's hand as she struggled to give birth to their second child.

"Spike!" The vampire gripped his mate's hand, flinching as she struggled to push the new life into the world.

"How's it going here?" Xander asked, popping his head in the door, his son in his arms looking on curiously.

"Get OUT Xander!" Buffy yelled.

"Ooookay. Chris, let's just go back downstairs and leave Aunt Buffy to her…thing."

"Thing?! MY CHILD IS NOT A THING ALEXANDER HARRIS!" Spike cringed as her voice hit higher decibels than his hearing could safely handle. Another contraction sent her screaming as she pressed down, using her slayer muscles to push.

* * *

Giles held his sleeping granddaughter in his arms, listening to the sounds of his daughter giving birth. Jason and Christopher were on the sofa, fast asleep while Anya watched over them. It had been a long and hard pregnancy, but Buffy and Spike had borne it all. They'd been through a lot, those two, and it seemed their trials were not over yet. 

He stood and walked to the window, looking out at the abandoned streets of Sunnydale. He wished this child had been born under better circumstances, without the threat of the First hounding their every step. There was a battle coming, one they might not win, and one that should not be overshadowing the birth of any child.

Anne shifted and started fussing, looking around for her parents. Giles tried to calm her, but to no avail.

"Let me." Anya plucked the squirming toddler out of Giles' arms, talking softly to her. Anne soon settled down, her intelligent blue eyes gazing towards the stairs which led to her parents. Anne was a precocious two-year-old, who walked with a fearlessness she got from her mother and got into trouble like only her father could. The daughter of two superbeings.

Another yell drifted down to them, waking Jason, who stood up and demanded his father. Giles picked up his son, something that still amazed him, and held him close. Everything was going to be alright.

* * *

The wail of a newborn child was music to her ears, after so many hours of labor. Spike pressed the crying child into Buffy's arms, caressing the damp head and pressing a kiss on his mate's head. 

"Our son is beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Buffy laughed, a breathless sound, looking from her mate to her new son. She could already see Spike's razor cheekbones in her child.

Willow, Tara, and Joyce quietly escaped the room, leaving the new parents to their child, eager to share their news. Willow was practically bouncing when she made it into the den.

"Well?" Xander asked expectantly.

"It's a boy!" Willow exploded, unable to contain herself. Joyce simply smiled at the redhead's effusiveness, and went over to retrieve her son. She laid a kiss on Giles' lips, relaxing into his embrace as she watched the younger generation celebrate the new life amongst them. Even among death and burgeoning chaos, there was still something to celebrate.

Upstairs, Buffy and Spike were admiring the newest addition to their family, and arguing over names.

"We are not naming him Lazarus," Buffy said with finality, grinning at her cheeky mate.

"How about Cadmus?" Spike suggested.

"With hopes that one day we can be together in the Elysian Fields, happy for eternity."

Buffy gasped when she saw the First in her form, holding the lifeless body of a child. She clutched her own to her breast, as if she could protect he fragile life in her arms.

"What a happy picture there, the little family, safe in their house. So they think. Safety is such a fleeting thing…" The sound of glass breaking and shouting rang out from downstairs, soon followed by the sounds of fighting. "Enjoy what's left of your time together." The First flew at them, transforming into a grotesque vision of a beaten Buffy, the child now recognizable as Anne, and was gone.

Spike pulled Buffy to face him, looking into her eyes.

"You know I love you," he said, willing her to really look at him.

"You said you never leave me," Buffy gasped, pressing her forehead against his.

"I will always come back to you," he swore, kissing her. The sounds of fighting, the Potentials yelling, Giles organizing everyone, faded into the background. For the moment, there was them, and only them. Their moment was interrupted when one of the First's eyeless minions crashed through the window. Buffy used her body to protect her baby's head, while Spike began pummeling anything he could get his hands on. Buffy backhanded one of them into the wall, finally making it out into the hall. They raced downstairs, Spike launching himself into the fray. Buffy's heart stopped momentarily, seeing Jason, Chris, and Anne huddled under a table while the potentials and adults formed a protective circle around them.

Spike went wild, the blood lust rising in him at the thought of anyone hurting his family. The fight was over in minutes, black bodies littering the floor. Miraculously, only one potential had been seriously hurt. He turned to where Buffy was soothing Anne and introducing her to her new little brother.

"We end this tonight," he said quietly, deadly, to Giles.

"Yes. We do," he agreed, watching Joyce clean and bandage a small cut on Jason's forehead.

Spike moved over to his small family, determined to enjoy these few precious seconds with his children and mate.

* * *

A solitary figure stood at the edge of what used to be Sunnydale, staring into the deep crater, a single tear making its way down her cheek. She felt so empty, the reassuring pressure of her mate's mind no longer there just…emptiness. She managed a tiny smile when a small hand slipped into hers. She looked down at her daughter, blue eyes shining up at her, and then to her son, watching her and looking so much like Spike. 

"Hello, William," she whispered, her tears flowing freely, "let me tell you about your Dad…he saved the world. A lot. And he's coming back to us. Somehow. "

_A/N: Look for 'Unchecked', the finale of this series._


	2. Chapter 1

"Anne Kendra! Get in here RIGHT. NOW!" Buffy yelled, trying to convince little William to eat something. He had a stubborn streak that put hers to shame. Spike would have loved the challenge. As usual, her heart clenched thinking about Spike, gone almost four months now. She missed him so much it hurt, especially when he wasn't there to share in his children's big moments.

"Mama!" a giggling voice called out, a small weight falling onto her leg. Buffy looked down through bleary eyes at her smiling daughter, bending over and giving the little imp a kiss. "Mama love!"

* * *

"Angel, you've got a package!" Harmony sang, grating on his nerves. The last thing he needed was that ditz making noise. Angel sighed, resting his head on his desk as he tried to summon up the energy to deal with…that thing. God he hated her sometimes. Most of the time. OK, all the time.

"Angel, you've got a package!" she sang through the intercom, her voice louder than before. He was a vampire, he'd hear her particular whine if she was five miles away.

"Angel—"

"YES. Thank you, Harmony, bring it in." He seriously considered flinging the stupid intercom across the room. Angel thought he was going to vomit when Harmony traipsed in wearing a bright pink dress with frilly little unicorns prancing on it. He could feel his eyes burning.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Boss?" Harmony asked, blinking her eyes coquettishly.

"No, Harmony, there really isn't," Angel said through gritted teeth. This day couldn't possibly get any more annoying. He pulled the box apart, surprised to see the amulet he'd given Buffy to fight the First. The one she hadn't let him wear. That had been a rather crappy night, finding out the love of his life was mated to his worthless grandchilde…and pregnant to boot. With her SECOND child. She said it was Spike's, but that was a naive impossibility; he could only surmise that she'd gotten pregnant through some means—in vitro or some other person—but through her 'relationship' with Spike had decided it was his. The best thing that had ever happened to her had been when the Hellmouth had swallowed Spike, freeing Buffy from the claim she couldn't have understood.

With a sigh, he tossed the amulet onto the table, wondering if he should fly to Rome and see how Buffy was doing. A bright flash and screaming interrupted his train of thoughts. Angel threw his arm up, shielding his eyes against the bright light. When he dropped his arm, he really wished he hadn't.

"Peaches?" Spike asked in disbelief. "What the bloody hell?"

"Fuck me," Angel growled, banging his head against the desk.

* * *

"So…this is Spike?" Fred asked, looking at the growling, frustrated ghost-vamp who was stalking around the room.

"Yes! I'm Spike! William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, mate of Buffy"—he glared at Angel when the older vampire growled—"and I want to talk to her NOW!"

"Yeah, well you're just out of luck there Willie," Angel sneered.

"What's so wrong about that, we could just call—"

"NO!" Angel roared, startling them all. Spike watched him with narrowed eyes; he could practically see the jealousy rolling off of his grandsire. "You don't know what he's capable of, Fred. If he tricked Buffy into a mating claim, then we can't let him near her. No telling what he could do to her head. Spike doesn't have any outside contact, understood?"

"But—" Fred protested.

"He tortured Angel, terrorized Sunnydale, and at last check was trying to kill Buffy, not…mate her," Wesley told the soft-hearted Texan. "While I'm not ruling out the possibility of some sort of redemption, given the nature of vampires it is highly unlikely."

"Sod this! I have children!" Spike yelled, shifting into gameface. The humans shrank away from the incorporeal vampire.

"Vampire's can't have children, boy," Angel snarled, his accent shifting into a light Irish brogue. Spike whirled on him, and Angel had to fight not to take a step back from the obviously irate man. He did not back down from SPIKE.

"ANYTHING is possible if you're willing to pay the price," the blonde snarled dangerously, "even anchoring a soul." With that, Spike dramatically walked through the door, knowing full well that Angel would be stewing in his own juices. Well sod this! If they wouldn't help him, he'd just sodding walk to wherever Buffy was. He was a ghost, it should be fairly easy.

"Blondie Bear?!" Spike froze, his entire body shuddering at the sound of that grating voice. No. No no no no no no fucking NO. "It is you, my Blondie Bear!" Spike decided that maybe, just maybe, it was totally worth it to see Harmony fly through him and crash head first into the wall. Angel's Merry Band of Worthless came running out to see what had caused all the noise.

"Spike, what did you do to Harmony?" Angel demanded. Spike rolled his eyes—of all the lows, defending Harmony was a pretty impressive pit—and flipped them the bird, ready to get out of this hell hole of a law firm.

* * *

Buffy settled next to William, rubbing his back as he drifted off to sleep. She could barely let him out of her sight, and since she couldn't stand to sleep in a bed alone…

_She was walking down a hall, her footsteps muffled by an expensive feeling plush carpet. She was wearing a flowing red dress that moved in an invisible breeze. She felt like there was something she was supposed to be doing, some meeting she was late for. A dark shadow walked out of an office at the end of the hall, disappearing around the corner._

"_Spike?" she whispered in disbelief. "SPIKE!" She took off down the hall, running as fast as she could. She took the turn too fast, crashing into the wall, but she could see him just up ahead, opening the door of an office. She had to get there before he went in, she just knew it._

"_Spike!" She reached out to grasp his shoulder, but her hand went through him, dust blowing away in the nonexistent breeze._

Buffy woke up with a gasp, covered in sweat and shaking. She glanced at Will, safely ensconced between two pillows so he wouldn't fall off the bed, before slipping away to get herself a glass of water. She caught her reflection in a mirror, grimacing at the dark circles under her eyes, but resigned to knowing that she wouldn't be getting any more sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

Spike screamed in frustration as he found himself pulled back to Angel's office—again. He could get maybe half a block away from Wolfram and Hart before he found himself right back where he started. He growled, storming down the empty halls in his rage. He couldn't even hit anything (or anyone) to release his emotions. He did an entire lap of the floor, finding himself, once again, in front of Angel's office. And evil smile made its way across his face. He could, at the very least, try to find out some of Angel's dark dirty secrets while he was bored; this whole walking through inanimate objects things had to have some benefits.

He'd just reached for the doorknob when a shiver went up his spine. A familiar scent tickled his nose, and he spun around looking for its source.

"Buffy?" he whispered hopefully. He found nothing but the faint scent of his love behind him, a whisper of a dream.


	3. Chapter 2

Buffy was staring into space when Dawn woke up the next morning.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked. She hadn't seen her sister like this since the first month, the day after the Hellmouth had collapsed. Buffy had seemed fine at first, getting everyone to L.A. and getting medical care for those who were hurt. They'd returned to their hotel rooms to find Buffy staring listlessly at the wall, completely zoned out. She'd sporadically come out of it, moving to use the restroom and occasionally to feed herself, but she'd been fairly unresponsive at any other time. Then Anne had gotten really sick one day, which had snapped Buffy out of her post-Hellmouth funk. And since she hadn't shown any signs of going back since then, this scared the hell out of Dawn. "Buffy?" She touched her sister's shoulder, jumping back as Buffy jerked back to awareness.

"What time is it?" Her voice was raw and scratchy.

"10," Dawn answered with a frown. "What happened?" Buffy stared blankly at her sister, her brain not quite working. William chose that moment to noisily wake up and announce his hunger. Buffy shook her head, retrieving her squirming baby and carrying him into the kitchen.

"I had a dream," she told Dawn, getting some applesauce out of the fridge. Will, like Anne, had some weird development going on. He could already stomach some 'adult' food and lift his head on his own. If he was anything like his sister, he'd be crawling before they knew it. Before she knew it. Buffy flinched involuntarily.

"OK," Dawn said around a mouthful of cereal. As with most things Spike-related, she was approaching this with caution.

"I…I saw Spike." Dawn could hear the tears in Buffy's voice. "He was in this office, some sort of business place. He was there, and I was trying to catch him, but when I did…he just floated away. But he was THERE." Buffy broke down then, tired of being strong; she missed Spike, and wanted him back. These dreams were just rubbing salt in the wound. Dawn pulled Buffy into a hug, trying to bring her exhausted sister some semblance of comfort. There was nothing she could say that would ease her sister's burden, and it broke her heart. "I miss him."

"I do too." They sat there, both silently remembering the man who'd touched their lives so profoundly.

"Mamma?" Buffy quickly dried her eyes, turning to her daughter.

"Hi, beautiful. Sleep well?" Buffy asked her daughter, swinging her around. Anne giggled, winding her hands around her mother's neck.

"Mamma's sad," the little girl said with a small frown, touching Buffy's still damp cheeks. A blinding grin, so like her father's, lit up her face. "But not for long!"

* * *

Spike felt a strange lethargy steal over him, watched curiously as Angel's office disappeared. He felt tired, drained, which he figured was odd for a ghost. The world was grey, faded and mute. A sinister voice whispered in his ear, telling him to sleep, to stop struggling. And he was so tempted to do so. Everything seemed so hopeless; he couldn't contact Buffy, couldn't see his children…what was the point of existing anymore? If Angel was telling him the truth, then Buffy was doing just fine without him. Something in Spike rebelled at that idea, almost shaking him out of his complacency. NO. She was his, his mate, just as he was hers. They belonged to each other, weren't whole without the other.

"Daddy," a voice whispered though the mist. Spike felt a jolt of energy flash through him. "Daddy!" Spike started struggling against the mist, against the sinister thoughts that were trying to drag him away from the world he knew. "Come back. We need you!"

Fred gasped as Spike suddenly appeared in her lab, doubled over and looking tired.

"Spike?" the young Texan asked with concern. "Where'd you come from?"

"Don't…know," he gasped, shuddering. It felt like he'd been locked in a freezer for hours, his muscles almost frozen and cold.

"You disappeared almost an hour ago," Fred said, concerned. She pulled out her spectral meter and started taking readings off the vampire-ghost. She frowned; his energy readings were fluctuating. If she wasn't reading this wrong, he was actually regaining some interrupted equilibrium. "This isn't right. What happened?"

"I…I'm not sure. There was this mist, and then…I felt so bad. Drained. And then…" Spike trailed off as the words stuck in his throat. He'd heard Anne's voice. He was sure it had been her. Tell him they needed him. Buffy needed him. He had to get back!

"And then what?" Spike dragged himself back to the scientist.

"I heard…my daughter. And I fought back." Spike turned away so she couldn't see him, see how much this was affecting him. He had a reputation to maintain.

Fred frowned, once again finding herself second guessing Angel's commands. Spike wasn't acting like a psychotically deranged vampire bent on killing Angel's former love. It all seemed quite suspiciously like jealousy to her.

"Anything else?" she asked, the scientist in her still trying to find the answer to Spike's dilemma. Since he wasn't a real ghost, there was a good chance she could solidify him given enough data.

Spike eyed the woman in front of him, judging whether or not to let her in. While she seemed nice and helpfully, less willing to condemn him for past crimes than the others, she was still one of the brooding wonder's entourage. But he needed a friend; he needed someone he could talk to, who might help him, and he figured he wasn't going to get much closer than Fred. So he did what he did best—he gambled.

"Last night, after you lot spilt…I smelled Buffy."

"Smelled…Buffy?" Fred asked, her nose wrinkling.

"She hasn't been here recently, yeah?"

"N-no. I don't think she's ever been here."

"Right. So there's no reason her scent should 'ave been in that hallway. But it was, faint, but it was there. She needs me. They need me. You've gotta…help me. Please." Fred watched wide eyed as Spike's eye welled with tears, anguish written on his face. That depth of emotion couldn't be faked, not even by the most consummate actor.

"Alright," she said softly. "But first, no complaining about being a lab rat! And I'll need you around to run experiments—no complaining! So first I need to get some readings…"


	4. Chapter 3

"She's doing what?" Angel growled, his eyes bleeding yellow. He barely heard the voice at the other end of the line filling him in on Fred's unsanctioned activities regarding the bleached thorn in his side. "Keep watching her."

Angel leaned back in his plush chair, eyes unfocused. So Fred was helping Spike, trying to recorporealize him. That was fine, as long as she didn't succeed, Fred and her bleeding heart could poke and prod at ghost-Spike for as long as she wanted; hell, it might even keep them both too busy to bother him. A not-so-pleasant smile stole over Angel's lips. Yes, this could work to his advantage.

* * *

"Daddy needs a hair cut," Anne announced cheerfully. Dawn and Buffy froze mid-bite, staring at her precocious child in disbelief.

"What?" Anne shrank back a little at her mother's voice, her eyes darting uncertainly from her mom to the table top.

"It's OK, Anne-a-na," Dawn said soothingly, shooting a glare at her sister, "Mommy didn't get much sleep. Now, what was that about Daddy?" Anne glanced uncertainly at her mom, then back at Dawn.

"Daddy's hair. It's all long and part-white," she said a little uncertainly.

"You…you saw Daddy?" Buffy asked.

"Yep! He was in this building, like where Grandpa Giles works in Engyland—" Buffy smiled at her daughter's inability to correctly say 'England;' no matter how much they tried to correct her—"but the grayness came, and he was sad and tired, and he wanted to sleep but I told him to come home, and he woke back up."

"That…that sounds like a nice dream," Buffy managed.

"Oh, it wasn't a dream," Anne said offhandedly, "it was really real-real."

* * *

Fred sighed in frustration. The numbers just wouldn't work. This didn't make any sense. What made a ghost not a ghost?

"Not likin' that look, pet," Spike said, hopping onto Fred's desk. He'd recently mastered the ability to treat large objects like they were solid…until he lost his concentration and fell onto (or through) the floor. Now they were working on his ability to manipulate smaller objects. So far, he'd managed to spill coffee down the front of Angel's shirt, which in and of itself was worth the effort. But it was draining, and each time he taxed himself, he could see the grayness pulling at the edges of his senses. And there was something about that mist that made his skin crawl.

"You're not a ghost," Fred said with frustration. Spike arched an eyebrow at the wiry scientist.

"Really." He 'experimentally' walked through the wall.

"You're not a ghost, you're just…ghost-like. Ghosty. Ghostish, if you will." Spike was pretty sure he'd look back on this and think it was funny. Everything was funny in retrospect and when you were solid.

"Right. I'm Spike, the Master Ghostish Vampire. How do we fix it?" he asked.

"That's the problem with the ish part. It…complicates things." Spike just looked at her blankly. "See, normal ghosts have no mass, and leave ectoplasmic residue that generally has a positive electrical charge, allowing us to sometimes see the image of the ghost, especially when equally charged emotion allows the ectoplasmic molecules to excite and vibrate and you exhibit all of these signs to varying degrees, but you have mass which just wouldn't happen if you were a ghost—your hair is growing which definitely would never happen if you were a real ghost, physical appearance is only alterable so far, and it's obviously a natural rate of growth, which suggests you are, in some way, alive…relatively speaking of course—and then there's the fact that your molecules interact on a pl—"

"Alright! Bloody well sorry I asked," Spike grumped. He didn't care about the details; he just wanted to get home to his family.

"I'll figure it out," Fred murmured sympathetically. She blushed a little when the vampire flashed her a brilliant smile, the subtlest hint of seduction behind it.

"I'm sure you will, pet," Spike said, forcing a tremulous smile on his face. He fled the laboratory without another word; he need time and space to regroup. God, this was torture, being away from Buffy, feeling the empty place in his head where his fiery slayer used to sit, a tight bundle of bright emotions and thoughts. It was the closest he came to the sun, Buffy blazing from deep inside him, warming him with her light. Now, he thought he could feel wisps of her, bright flashed of emotions…but that just added to his ire, not being able to touch her physically or emotionally.

Spike forced down the wave of anger and sadness as his thoughts strayed to his children. Every second, every moment he was away from them was torturous. He'd glimpsed a calendar; he'd been gone for six months. So much had happened, so much he'd missed…so much he was being kept from. He wasn't sorry he'd sacrificed himself for them; he'd do it again without a second thought. But damned if he'd ever forgive Angel from keeping them apart.

* * *

Buffy sat Indian-style, facing her daughter. A small candle sat between them, the flame dancing through the air.

"So…let's go through this again." Anne signed loudly and dramatically covered her face with her hands. Buffy had to admit, she had her father's flair for the dramatic.

"Mo-om! We've been over this a _million_ times!" Buffy rolled her eyes, wondering what Anne's teenage years held if this was what she was like as an almost three-year-old.

"Mo-om's slow, so let's do this again."

"It's like floating," Anne lectured, completely convinced of what she was describing. "You just float up and feel and you find Daddy's string and you follow it to him. It's like Hansel and Gretel when they left the bread trail so they wouldn't get lost in the woods 'cept it's like the stone path but not itty bitty pieces of stone all spread out, but one big long stone that's like a string." Yep, that was exactly what she'd said last time, almost word-for-confusing-word. And the worst thing? Buffy knew that was all her genetic material at work.

"Right. So…float and follow the stone string path?" Anne nodded enthusiastically grinning. "Right. Easy."

* * *

Everyone had gone home long ago, but Fred wasn't even aware of the hour. She was engrossed in her latest project, trying to figure the mystery of ghosty Spike. This would be fairly simple if she could account for the variables that made Spike NOT a ghost, expect that they were all wibbly and inconsistent. Almost as if Spike was in a constant state of flux...

Fred's eyes widened. Was that…no, it couldn't be that simple. Well, simple was a relative term, it was actually quite complex, but conceptually, it answered everything. Pulling up the readings she'd taken from Spike over the last few days, she started going over everything from the beginning.

* * *

Spike felt the cold tendrils of the mist creep up him, closing in on his vision. He briefly nursed a morbid desire to find out what would happen if he just gave in and let it surround him, but a flash of something within him—maybe his survival instincts—galvanized him into action. Spike sprang up, feeling the mist tear away from him, and ran. He rand down the hall, down the twisted corridors, through walls, but the mist was still there. It followed him, dogged his footsteps, and got closer. Every time it touched him, Spike felt his strength go, little by little. It was like a poison, every touch injecting him with more and slowing his body down.

The room felt like ice. He gasped, an involuntary reaction to the _coldness_ that filled him. His body was bowed back, his mouth open in a scream that was swallowed by the grayness. He felt his consciousness being ripped away, and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

"Mamma, you're doing it wrong," Anne said. Her words were filled with the endless suffering of a child wondering how adults ever managed anything at all. Buffy cracked an eye open and glared at her know-it-all toddler.

"Really. What should I be doing?" Anne rolled her eyes—something she undoubtedly picked up from her Aunt Dawn—and marched over to her mother, plopping her self firmly into her mother's lap. Buffy watched in amusement as her take-charge daughter took the time to settle herself comfortably in her mother's lap, snuggling her back against Buffy's chest. Buffy's arms wrapped around the child as she settled in.

"Kay. I'll show you. Close your eyes, Mamma. No peaking!" Buffy laughed a little, but did as her daughter instructed, letting her mind wander into silence. She'd gotten better at meditating, her only means of finding solace in the first few months AS—After Sunnydale. Buffy felt something push at the boundaries of her consciousness. She was filled with memories of Spike playing with their new mating bond, sending her images and suggestive promises during the daylight hours; this new presence felt like that, though different. Buffy touched back, and was amazed as her daughter's presence flooded her, filled with the unconditional love a child feels for their parents, before they grow old enough to realize that their parents aren't perfect. It was humbling.

_Hi mamma! _Anne's clarion mental voice floated over her.

_Hey, baby girl._ Buffy answered back.

_Do you see Daddy? _Buffy felt a nudge/right/look feeling come from her daughter, so she 'looked' to the right. She saw them both sitting together, eyes closed, breathing even. Chords of varying colors and intensities flowed from them. Buffy plucked one, and it made a beautiful sound; Dawn, Buffy thought with on. This was her…connection with her little sister. Buffy found her mother, Giles, Willow, William, and various other people that had been in her life, tweaking each of them in turn. Anne sent her a flash of bored/antsy/let's go!/Daddy, and Buffy turned her concentration to her mate. She searched for something that resonated Spike, but she couldn't find it.

_Memories. Remember Daddy_, Anne encouraged. Buffy called up the first time they had renewed their mating claim, solidifying intentionally what had happened first under a spell. It had been intense and raw and unbelievable. She remembered what it felt when the mating claim flared with new life, stronger and more vibrant. Buffy gasped as she felt an answering stir, faint but there. Buffy dove for the sound, reaching out, felling something light and wispy. Buffy opened her eyes and gasped. There, in front of her, frail and thin, was Spike. She could see him, smell him, hear him all around her. She wanted to cry with joy.

_Follow!_ Anne said, and took off, traveling down the tenacious little connection. Buffy was right behind her, sailing over countries and seas and oceans, towards her love.

* * *

Spike's back was bowed in agony. He was fighting, fighting the pull of the mist, fighting the insipid voices that tried to break him. He would not give up. He would not let his family down; he made a promise to his mate, to his Buffy, and he wasn't about to lose. Deep inside, he knew that it wasn't enough. He didn't have the energy to fight the overwhelming pull of this thing that was trying to devour him. But he would fight, up to the last.

He almost lost himself when he was distracted by the faintest whiff of a scent. This place was bleak, empty; there was nothing, no sound, no sight, and no smell. But it came again, stronger this time, and unmistakable. Buffy. He strained and fought, his demon coming to the forefront, searching for the source of the elusive smell, the smell of home. Suddenly, without warning, light seared him, blinded him, called him home.


	5. Chapter 4

Buffy was flying, following the thin bond that connected her with Spike, hoping against hope that she'd find…something, anything, at the end of it. She kept tweaking the bond, the sound she associated with a Spike getting clearer as they grew closer. Buffy almost lost her way when the sound changed, jarring her. It was dulled, strained, not the clear notes that had guided her before.

_It's the badness_, Anne whispered fearfully. A sense of urgency and fear came from her daughter.

_What's the badness?_ Buffy asked. The shudder of fear and revulsion that whispered through her connection with her daughter terrified Buffy. The badness was bad. Very bad. Buffy surged forward, panic and concern aiding her, driving her to find her mate.

The thread they were following turned searingly cold. Buffy glanced down and was shocked to see the vibrant swirls of color rapidly fading into a dully, lifeless grey. She could barely hear the song, straining to play. The ice seemed to grip Buffy's heart, and she called out into the vastness around her.

_Spike!_ The call flew away from her, but there was no response. _Spike!_

_Daddy! _Anne's voice joined hers. Together, their call reached through the grayness and they felt an small answering spark. Together, they dove through the haze.

And there, faint and failing, was Spike. She could see him, surrounded by a sinister feeling great mist, tendrils wrapped around his body, his mouth opened in a silent scream. Buffy threw herself at him, severing the tendrils of icy gray that were wrapped around him. She took her love for him, her joy at seeing him again, her love for the children they had created together, and sent it our in a glorious burst of color, vibrant golds and reds chasing away the colorless mist.

* * *

The life-claiming force that had so convinced itself the struggling vampire was doomed was unprepared for the assault leveled upon it. It cringed, shrinking back against the blinding heat-gold that suddenly surrounded the prey. It watched, angry and hungry, as a smaller—but no less vibrant—being drew the prey away from the in-between and back to the word and to safety.

Gathering its anger, it attacked, charging at the gold light and latching onto it. Beings still attached to the world, still attached to their skins, were harder to draw in, harder to kill; they had a refuge, a place of safety. The prey had be promised to the mist, an easy target tired by a mortal fight and severed from its earthly connections. But the gold…the gold would feed its hunger, and it was far away from its base. The mist struck viciously, and the gold faltered. Ruthlessly the grayness pressed, searching for a weakness, whispering sinister thoughts, but each time the gold flared red and surged back. So the mist dug deeper, whispered sinister thoughts of death and loneliness. The gold lost ground and sparks of other colors, lonely and loss colors, touched the surface. She was tiring.

The mist searched for the thin thread that linked all beings with their physical manifestations, so thin and easy to snap. If it broke, the gold would be lost to the mist. One stabbing tendril brushed the cord, and the new prey recoiled sharply, panicked green-oranges suffusing its being. The mist surged towards the silver tendril, but the cord snapped back, drawing the new prey back to the safety of its body.

It retreated, floating benignly in the in-between, resting and gathering its energy for the next battle. The gold might be forever lost, but the prey was still out there…

* * *

Fred was worried. She hadn't been able to find Spike. No one had seen him for hours, and none of her instruments were picking up any of his abnormal readings. Anywhere. Subsequent testing had proven Spike was incapable of moving far beyond the periphery of Wolfram and Hart, and prolonged exposure outside drained his energy considerably. So the question remained—where the hell was Spike?

"You look worried, Freddikins," Loren's friendly voice a welcoming distraction from her increasingly unhappy thoughts. "What's got you down?"

"I can't find Spike," Fred replied, worrying her bottom lip as she continued analyzing the problem and coming up with no solution. Spike left trails, and all the ones she'd found were either old or just…stopped.

"Well tall blonde and ghostly can't have gone far, n'est pas?" Lorne said with a cheery wink. He frowned a bit when this seemed to dampen Fred's normally upbeat mood further. She looked up, surprised to find them standing outside of her lab.

"That's just it. I can track Spike's movements, and they just…stop. In the middle of a room. No new ones for at least the past five hours, and…I'm worried." Lorne cocked his head to the side and _looked_ at her. Worry seeped out of her pores, and her aura was slightly off. There was more to this than Spike just discovering some new ghost trick. He silently commanded her to continue.

"Spike…disappears sometimes," Fred began hesitantly. Lorne's brows crinkled, though he remained silent. A better reaction that the indifference she'd have suspected from any of the others…though she was pretty sure Angel would be far from indifferent. "He says…he says that when he disappears, something is-is draining him, and it's getting harder to come back."

A worried look darted across Lorne's face. He settled himself against Fred's desk, scrolling through all of the mystical mumbo-jumbo he'd ever come across in his life. He'd heard of 'Soul Eaters,' amorphous beasts that fed on the energy of the newly dead, devouring them before they could complete their final journey. But Fred had said that Spike was definitively not a ghost…though that didn't mean there wasn't something else lurking out there that fed on, say, spiritual energy. Which Spike had in spades.

"So, what have you figured out so far?" Lorne asked, trying to spark the Texan's creativity. If something was going after their resident non-ghost, they were going to have to move on this whole recaporealizing thing. There were people who weren't too excited about Fred's newest pet project, Angel topping that list. There was something going on with the boss man these days that Lorne didn't like. And Angel was avoiding him, particularly on a one-to-one basis.

"Well…I've never actually seen him disappear. But he's reappeared in front of me. Spike doesn't have control over his visibility; he's not a ghost, he's a part of this world but in some way I just can't figure out not. If he's here, you will see him. So there's no doubt that his claims have merit; I just—" A bright light appeared in the middle of the room, almost too bright to look at.

"Bloody hell." Fred and Lorne gawped as Spike appeared in the room, sprawled unceremoniously on the floor. A light, mischievous giggle floated through the room as Spike began cursing a blue streak, struggling with uncooperative muscles to make it upright.

"Daddy said a Bad Word!" Lorne and Fred exchanged wide-eyed, astonished glances before taking a longer look at that ball of light. It was actually more like an ovular swath of incandescent light that shimmered through every color in the rainbow. But in the very center, their seemed to be the unformed shape of a child, her voice filled with love.

"Anne—" Spike choked off; he had so much to say, too much. But that one word held such a wealth of emotion. He felt his daughter start pulling away from him, their bond weakening back to the muffled buzz that was both delightful and maddening. "No! Anne!" Tears pricked at Fred's eyes at the anguish in Spike's voice.

"Soon!" Anne's voice floated back to them, tinny with distance. "I love you, Daddy." Fred looked uncomfortably as Spike collapsed, drained in every way possible and yearning for his family. Lorne felt the vampire's misery acutely, and walked over to comfort him. Unthinkingly, he laid his hand on Spike's shoulder.

"I think Angel-kins may have told us a little white lie," Lorne murmured solemnly.

Gold eyes clashed with red.

"You're touching me."


	6. Chapter 5

Buffy awoke with a startled gasp, her consciousness slamming into her body. She felt like someone had immersed her in a bucket of ice, her skin clammy. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her body shaking with exhaustion. Her arms tightened reflexively Anne as she recalled the seductive pull of the mist, the malevolent whispers of loneliness and despair. She glanced down at her daughter, alarm racing through her.

Anne was breathing deeply and slowly—too slowly. Buffy nudged her and called her name, trying to wake her up. Nothing. Anne was an abnormally light sleeper; thoughts of the chilling mist flooded through Buffy as she shook and pleaded with her daughter to wake up.

Dawn burst into the room, William crying on her hip at all of the noise. Anne's eyes popped open and she drew in a loud breath.

"Oh God! Oh baby girl," Buffy gasped, tears streaming down her face. "I was so scared."

Anne let her mother hold her in a hug that would have cracked the ribs of any other child; but everyone has their limits, and Anne soon began struggling for her freedom.

"I was so worried, I thought you had…it had…" Dawn watched the scene, mystified as to what had happened. Will had quieted down and was looking at his sister with an oddly knowing expression. Buffy had some weird kids. Buffy was running her hands all over her daughter, checking for wounds or injury.

"I was just saying bye to Daddy," Anne sulked. Dawn bit back an exclamation; Buffy would tell her everything in time. "And I got to see his friends."

"What friends?" Dawn asked.

"A pretty girl and a funny green demon-man. His eyes were red, it was like Christmas!" Dawn slowly shifted her gaze to her sister's eye. Anne couldn't possibly mean… Dawn almost took a step back when she saw the look on Buffy's face, the one normally reserved for patrols and ex boyfriends.

Buffy needed to kill something. Now. Because she'd just realized why that hallway she'd chased Spike down in her dream had seemed so achingly familiar…

* * *

Joyce was just finishing up the dishes when the doorbell rang. Assuming it was one of Rupert's over-eager minions, she decided to sneak up the back stairs. Just as she began climbing, an unexpected sound reached her ears.

"Mommy!"

"Grandma!" Joyce found her arms full of excited granddaughter. "Surprise! We're in Engyland!" Joyce laughed, bouncing Anne in her arms.

"You're so big!" Anne giggled, proud of herself. Joyce thought sadly about how fast they grow up, thinking to her young son who had better be out of bed by now. She sent Anne to bother her uncle while the adults got down to business.

"I gather this isn't a social call?" Giles asked, eyeing his children. Joyce and Giles were momentarily taken aback by the heat and coldness in Buffy's eyes. Giles sat up straighter, an equally telling sign that they were now dealing with the Slayer.

"Dawn and I are headed to L.A.," Buffy growled.

* * *

"Do you know yet?"

"No."

Pace, pace, pace, sigh, pace, pace.

"Do you know yet?"

"_No_."

Pace, pace, pace, mumble, untranslatable British swear word, fiddle with pen.

"Do you know yet?"

"NO!" Fred was doing her best to ignore him, as well as Lorne, who was watching the two of them and taking amused notes on a legal pad he'd stolen, muttering something about this making a great movie. These conditions were not conducive to data analysis, especially when the bleached moron she was seriously considering not helping interrupted—

"Do you know yet?"

"I DO NOT KNOW. I AM TRYING TO FIND OUT. So please—sit down and shut up, or walk through a wall!" Lorne smothered a laugh, his hands fling over the paper. "AND YOU! Unless I get credit as a consultant…out! Both of you! Now! Go!" The two males backed out of the room, trying hard to keep their amusement at bay.

"Kitten's got claws," Spike observed with a smirk. Fred blushed, but kept shooing them out. "I think I like it." Fred blushed even more, before slamming the door closed. She could hear Lorne laughing thru the door, so she gave it a vicious little kick.

Three hours later, she was staring at her screen in amazement. She'd done it. Well, she hadn't actually done it-done it yet, but she had a working, proven mathematical equation (that needed just the slightest mystical tweaking to hold all of the variables in stasis). It was…genius, if she did say so herself. And on top of it, she'd proven several theoretical principles about reality and the nature of the nonphysical world.

Spike's solidness had proven temporary, but it had allowed Fred to get all sorts of interesting readings as he faded back to his ghost-ish state. The answer to Spike's condition had been apparent after she'd analyzed the data. Spike was slightly out of synch with the physical world, just enough that he had to really charge and stimulate his particles in order to move objects. But now that she'd seen the transformation from solid 'real' being to ghosty being, she could replicate the conditions and make his solidness permanent. And she was almost positive she had everything in the lab that she needed…

* * *

Angel growled as his informant relayed Fred's breakthrough to him. The chameleon demon shrank back as Angel growled low in his throat, his eye bleeding to gold, feral and dangerous. As an outlet for his rage, Angel began systematically destroying everything in the room, not even noticing when the demon slunk out of the room.

Angel heaved his desk into the wall, watching dispassionately as shards of wood flew everywhere. His chest was heaving with unneeded breath, his rage stimulating long-suppressed habits. He hated showing anything. He needed to calm down before he dealt with his meddling employee; if he really taught her he kind of lesson he wanted to, people would start asking questions.

Fred joined a couple of wires, blearily checking the readout. She'd been working non-stop since she'd figured out how to (maybe) bring Spike back into the world. If she kept going, she'd be finished by morning. If all of her readings were correct, then Spike was just slightly out of synch with reality; not enough to do any serious harm, and well within acceptable power-use limits to bring him back. Strong emotion could make him solid for a short amount of time—like Spike's ability to move small objects and annoy the living hell out of absolutely everyone. But Fred had to wonder at the power of a connection that had made Spike corporeal for a good fifteen minutes. That kind of love, was just…

Fred cried out as two wires shocked her, her distraction causing them to burn her fingers. She stuck them in her mouth to sooth the burn.

"Fred?" She jumped sky high, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest. She briefly caught a strange look in Angel's eye when she first turned around, but it was gone before she could fully explore it.

Angel took a deep breath, taking what pleasure he could in the girl's fear. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Fred wondered why that had a ring of untruth to it. When she pulled herself back, Angel was staring at her expectantly.

"Oh. No, I-I'm fine. I'm just…building an experiment. All wrapped up, you know me. Not sure if it will work, but I'm hoping so. I think it will make a lot of people happy." Looking at Angel, Fred was pretty sure that Angel would be the exact opposite of happy.

Inside, Angel was seething. She thought she could lie to him, did she? Instead of dealing with her continued insubordination, he plastered on a concerned smile and glanced pointedly at the lab's atomic clock.

"It's a little late. You look like you could use some sleep…don't want to mess up your big experiment because of carelessness, do you?" Fred glanced at the clock and was shocked to see that it was five in the morning. She felt drained and dead tired.

"I must have lost track of time." Angel nodded his encouragement, and Fred smile thinly. "I think I'll crash in one of the guest suites." Angel played the gentleman and escorted her to the elevators. Once she was safely away, he went back into the lab to look at the machine he was building. He suppressed the urge to smash it to pieces. That would be far too obvious. He walked around the contraption several times, taking in every detail, every piece of wiring. He looked at the sketchy schematics. He finally removed a tiny little piece from the inner workings that was easily overlooked and would affect the entire experiment. Maybe even kill Spike for good in the process if he was lucky. Smiling, Angel slipped the small crystal into his pocket and strode off, considerably happier and smugger than when he came in.


	7. Chapter 6

Buffy started as Dawn shook her awake. Gathering their things, the two sisters made their way off the train, shivering slightly in the cool English air. Buffy's expression remained tight, though relief raced through her when she saw their escort. She was eager to get to LA, to get to Spike, but she needed insurance first. If Angel had been keeping this from her for so long, she was definitely going into Wolfram & Hart fully prepared.

* * *

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" Fred asked, worrying her bottom lip. Spike rolled his eyes and bounced on the balls of his feet. Really, Fred's concern was touching, but it had already delayed his potential recaporialization a full day while she'd 'covered all variables and contingencies' by running millions upon millions of tests and simulations on her Spike Solidifier. Well, 634 according to her, but it felt like millions.

"I would very much like to be solid," Spike said in his primmest imitation of Wesley. Fred rolled her eyes and rechecked her calculations—again.

"Alright, I'm going to run—"

"NO!" Spike growled, his impatience finally getting the best of him. "No more tests. You've done them all. Twice. All that's left is to do the damn thing."

"But we only get one chance at this. The machine's going to use up all of the ectoplasmic and super-atmospheric energy in the building for the next hundred years…you could be stuck here if I misplaced a decimal or forgot to carry the two!"

"Not inspiring a lot of confidence here, pet," Spike sighed.

"Sorry, I just…"

"I know. But it's all I've got." Fred nodded her assent; really, Spike was right. There was nothing left to do but try this. They had one shot, and one shot only, and she had prepared as much as she possibly could. Twice.

"Alright. Into the circle, make sure you don't get too near the edge of the ring. There's going to be an unstable vortex whirling around you; I have no idea what will happen if you venture out, but I think it would be bad." Spike snorted. With the amount of supernatural energy the soft-spoken scientist was harnessing to make him solid again, he was pretty sure BAD wouldn't even begin to cover it.

Taking a deep breath, Spike stepped over the metal ring and took a deep breath. He focused on his family, Buffy's green eyes glittering stubbornly, Anne's delighted laugh, and the memory of his son's birth. His son, whose name he didn't even know. Determination gripped him, flooding him with a renewed resolve.

"Do it." Holding her breath, Fred turned her machine on. Her eyes remained glued to Spike, looking so calm and collected, as the energy built. The crystals set into the machine began to glow, filling with charged energy particles waiting to be released. Fred could feel the power here, her hairs rising, her body reacting to the invisible pulsing. The machine began to whine, getting higher and higher. Fred's heart was hammering as her computer screen registered full capacity, and the release countdown began. Three…two…one…

Spike screamed. Pain ripped through him, millions of volts flaying his body from the outside in. His senses deadened, everything going dark except for his nerve endings, which screamed at him that it _hurt_ in every way imaginable.

Fred's hands were flying over the controls; something was very, very wrong.

She tried to interrupt the power flow, but she couldn't do it without blowing the entire block up. Her only option was to wait it out, and hope that Spike would survive.

Angle was in the middle of a conference call when the lights went out. He felt a slow smile stretch across his face as the reason struck hum. With any luck, Spike was now gone for good, but he'd settle for knowing that Fred would never be able to replicate these conditions and Spike would be stuck as a ghost for…as long as it took the Senior partner's little 'friend' to overpower his wayward grandchilde. A sharp knocking at his door startled Angel out of his reverie. He quickly stowed the smooth crystal he'd been unconsciously fondling and took a deep breath. Lorne and Gunn; he needed a cover.

"I don't care! I want the power back on now! Even if you have to attach a Conditavoxia Demon to the generator to do it!" He slammed the receiver down, turning his attention to the two questioning humans lurking in his doorway. "Boys downstairs don't know what blew out the power. Anything you did?" Gunn shook his head in the negative, and Lorne began complaining about how much networking time he was loosing. Angel settled back into his chair, his mind wandering to all the possible outcomes of his subterfuge. He never noticed when he started humming, or when Lorne ground to a halt, staring at his friend in alarm.

* * *

Fred felt a sharp shock as she dashed through the diminished—but still potent—electromagnetic field that surrounded Spike. He was collapsed on the ground, completely still. Fred swore as her hand passed right through him. It hadn't worked; this had all been for nothing.

"Spike!" she called frantically. He had to be OK. There was no way she'd messed up, miscalculated this badly. "Spike, please! Come on!"

"Bugger." It was so faint, Fred was sure she'd imagined it.

"Spike?" she whispered, afraid to do anything that might convince him to not exist anymore, as if her breath could disperse the out of phase atoms holding him together. Nothing happened for several seconds, until a pained exhalation signaled Spike's continued un-life.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck." Spike tried to open his eyes, but changed his mind when the simple thought of attempting it felt like a spear through his brain. He tried to clear away the fuzz in his head by doing a mental check of his extremities; unfortunately, since everything hurt like hell, he couldn't tell one part from another. His body was just a lump of ouch. He could vaguely hear Fred through the painful buzz, talking somewhere above him; he was pretty sure she was mumbling apologies, though she very well could have been spouting off quantum equations. Spike didn't particularly care at the moment, and slipped into blessed darkness.

Fred had to assume by the random twitching of Spike's muscles that he was with the living—or as much with the living as a ghost-like member of the undead could be. She just prayed that the mysterious grayness that had Spike so spooked wouldn't come for him in this state. If it was really that powerful, he wouldn't survive and she couldn't protect him. If the power were on, she could test out the new ectosheilding platform she'd installed a few days ago to try and give Spike some sort of safe place. But the machine's overload seemed to have knocked out all of the power. The only thing for Fred to do right now was to wait—wait for Spike to wake up, and wait for the power to come back on so she could figure out what had gone so terribly wrong.

Waiting only lasted as long as it took her overwhelming sense of guilt to force her restless hands to some task. So she started taking apart her creation piece by piece, checking each lead and connection. Many of them were fused together or badly charred, and most of the crystals reduced to fragments. She worked her way steadily around to the regulating crystals, freeing each one gingerly from its niche to be sent for analysis. Her hands worked methodically, her mind running through equations, scenarios, and simulations, trying to find out what went wrong, when her fingers slipped, her rhythm faltered.

She looked down with a frown. Her fingers had closed over air. One of the regulating crystals was missing. Probably shattered with the overload. Fred looked around for the remains, but didn't find any. That wasn't right. There was no evidence of a crystal ever having been in the little groove. Even with as much power flowing through the machine, it wouldn't have completely vaporized the crystal. Fred felt panic flood her as she realized she must have forgotten it, left it out as she constructed the complex monstrosity. This was all her fault. What was she going to tell Spike?

Fred was staring at the missing part, trying to remember putting it together, forgetting that one crucial part that had cost Spike his chance at life. But for some reason, the only thing she could focus on was the night Angel had paid her an unexpected visit…and a cold feeling worked its way into her belly.


	8. Chapter 7

"Well, if the lights are out for good, I have a flat screen TV and a Laker's game waiting on me," Gunn announced, glad he could get a word in around Lorne's complaining. Lorne's eyes never wavered from Angel's surprisingly serene face...especially considering moments ago, he's been supposedly reaming out an underling.

"Sounds great," Angel said enthusiastically. "We've been working pretty hard around here, getting used to the whole corporate thing. You two enjoy the rest of the day." He made a dismissive shooing motion, which Gunn was more than happy to obey. Lorne was still trying to sort through what he'd 'seen' when Angel had been humming. His brain was racing, trying to come us with and excuse, anything, that would explain what he saw. But the conclusions he kept drawing made his blood run colder.

* * *

Fred nearly had a heart attack when Lorne burst into her still-darkened lab.

"Lorne! You startled me, I—"

"Lambkins, have you noticed anything odd going on with Angel lately?" Fred, still trying to convince her racing heart to calm itself, took a moment to calm herself. What were the odds of Lorne asking questions about Angel's behavior and her increasing suspicions about their boss' motives concerning Spike?

"I...I think he really doesn't like Spike, and so he's acting a little...um..."

"Petulant?" Lorne asked with a small smirk. Fred felt her face flush a little.

"Why do you ask?" Lorne glanced around the sparsely lit laboratory; what he'd read off Angel had him spooked.

"Angel doesn't just dislike Spike," Lorne said softly, his gaze following Fred's to where Spike remained motionless on the floor. His eyes widened as he put the pieces together, the wreck of Fred's lab, the scorch marks, and the black out. "Angel _loathes_ Spike." The weight of Lorne's words wasn't lost on either of them.

"Enough to want him dead or seriously injured?" Fred asked softly, her gaze searching the slumbering vampire for signs of life. Lorne's silence spoke volumes.

"What can we do?" Fred asked, hovering over a still-unconscious Spike. "He can't leave, and if that gray thing comes back while he's like this...my experiment was our only hope!"

"Do the phones work?" Fred picked up one of the phones off a nearby desk, the dial tone loud in the silent lab. "I think Spike needs a slayer."

* * *

"What EXACTLY do they suspect?" Angel growled into the phone, ignoring the pain in his hand as his desk splintered under his grip. Dissension in the ranks was unacceptable; he couldn't afford Lorne and Fred teaming up against him. He just had too many plans in motion for them to get in the way and cause him trouble. And he wasn't read for Buffy—yet.

* * *

"We don't know her number," Fred pointed out.

"But I bet the Watcher's Council does," Lorne pointed out.

"Um...we don't know their number either, and I highly doubt they're in the Yellowpages under Watcher's Council, The."

"We could call Wesley first, he'd have to know their number."

"That won't be necessary." Fred gasped and spun around, the phone clutched tightly against her chest. Angel was leaning against the door jamb, looking devilishly nonchalant. Angel NEVER looked devilish or nonchalant...but Fred had heard plenty of stories about Angelus.

"Not Angelus," Lorne whispered to her, his red eyes locked on the dangerous vampire in front of them.

"No," Angel said mockingly, allowing a truly feral grin to twist his features. "Consider me...a liberated Angel." Fred took an involuntary step back, flinching when his chilling, humorless laugh cut through her.

"You sabotaged my experiment," she accused, her voice cracking a bit. Angel rolled his eyes.

"Always the quick one, aren't you Winifred?" Lorne's hand on her elbow helped anchor her in the face of Angel's scary Mr. Hyde transformation. She straightened up and fixed Angel with what she hoped was a strong, challenging look, though she could feel her legs trembling. "Ah, isn't it cute, the prey banding together for their last gasp." Fred's uncontrollable whimper was music to Angel's ears, his demon raging within him for MORE. The fear tasted delicious, Fred's cutting and thick, Lorne's tempered by his demonic nature but still there. His own demon was clamoring for a good hunt and kill.

"Y-you-you can't do this," Fred exclaimed, her panic starting to overwhelm her.

"B-but-but I can!" Angel mocked, a thrill racing down his spine. He began stalking his prey, maneuvering them into a corner where they had no where to run. Maybe he'd let Lorne go for a little while, toy with the annoying empath after he'd robbed Fred of her disgusting innocence. Her death would be sweet. "Who's going to stop me? You? Lorne? How about Spike...oh, wait, not only is he still unconscious, he's not solid. Looks like you failed Freddy. So who's going to come and save you from the big, bad vampire?" Angel took a deep, deliberate breath of air, his demon springing forth at the stench of human fear. It had been far too long since he'd smelled such delicious aromas...and far too long since he'd been the cause of it.

* * *

Spike came grudgingly back to awareness. It's not like he had a choice; someone was making an unbearable amount of racket that was interfering with his blessed unconsciousness. He pried one eye open, grateful for once that there didn't appear to be any glaring bright lights blinding him. Spike carefully pushed himself into a standing position, everything feeling weirdly off. It took Spike a minute to realize that the racket was sound of Angel getting thrown bodily around the lab, and that he had knocked over a set of beakers. 


	9. Chapter 8

Fred was kind of disappointed that she was going to die so ignominiously. She'd always expected to go in the service of the greater good...or at least helping her friends. Not as Angel's dinner. In fact, she was pretty sure she deserved a much cooler death, for all the years she spent as a human cow. She could at least become the host of some ancient powerful god or something. But no, Angel was going to chomp on her neck. Not fair. AND he had bad breath on top of it!

Angel paused a moment as Fred's disgruntlement and disappointment chased away her fear; the fear was still there, but muted and not as good. Who was this mousy little scientist to not be afraid of him? He gave his most vicious growl to try and bring back the mood.

"Oh, scary!" a mocking voice called out. Angel's world twisted, and errant though (_That's the ceiling..._) filtering through his brain before he crashed head first into the opposite wall. A loud pop and a bright white light added to his confusion.

Fred stared at the petite blond who'd literally chucked Angel across the room in amazement as she offered a handkerchief.

"I think you have Angel slobber on your jacket," the woman mock-whispered with a small smile.

"Oh." Fred took the little square cloth and found that she did, indeed, have Angel slobber on her shoulder. "Th-thanks."

"No problem!" the perky blind said, smoothly turning around to punch a snarling Angel on the nose. Fred winced as she heard the bone crunch. Not that Angel didn't deserve it, but that was just not a pleasant sound. "Do you guys mind if I take care of this before..."

"You go do what you have to do Beautiful! We'll be right here cheering you on. Ra-ra!" Buffy giggled at Lorne's cheerleader pose.

"Oh, well, you could always talk to Willow if you get bored." With that, Buffy spun around to take out her pent up aggression and frustration on her ass of a 'first love.' Really, what the hell had she been thinking? Granted, she was only a teenager, but still! Being a teenager was no excuse for bad taste.

"Xander really should have been here to see this," Willow sighed, watching Buffy throw Angel through a large glass window with equations all over it.

"We have security camera taping the whole thing," Lorne told the witch with a smile. "This will all be up on the Internet before it's done."

"No, just teasers," Fred said, still distractedly trying to remove Angel's grossness from her lapel. A particularly loud crash and a howl of pain made them all look up. Buffy was systematically bashing Angel's head through the large aquariums that lined the lab, all the while ranting about him and his controlling, patronizing attempts to control her life.

"Teasers?" Lorne asked, his attention still with the former lovers.

"Yeah. Teasers. We don't want to leak the whole movie, just teaser bits that make everyone want to buy the DVD's we'll be making and selling at about a 2,000 mark up. Factoring in the number of demons and supernatural beings Angel has angered just in the few years AI has been open, and allowing for a controlled and conservative number of beings still around from his past, coupled with our internet advertising that should increase the number and demographic of our buyers as word gets out, we stand to make several hundred thousands of dollars." When Fred looked up, both Lorne and Willow were staring at her, mouths agape. "What? It's a viable business venture."

"Have you met Anya?" Willow asked with a grin.

* * *

Buffy let Angel land a punch, just to break up the monotony of her kicking his ass. Really, he wasn't even a challenge anymore. The great, fearsome Angelus. Ha. Bloody wanker's what he was! Buffy swung at him, only to find her punch unexpectedly blocked. Bugger. She knew better than to let herself get distracted by an opponent, no matter how victorious she seemed. 

Angel grinned, Buffy's stormy green eyes glaring daggers at him. Oh, if looks could kill!

"Man, Buff. Here I was hoping you'd learned some new moves." Angel crowed as Buffy's eyes tightened in anger. She was just too easy! "Too bad I'm not going to have time to instruct you." Angel struck, his fangs breaking the skin of the Slayer's neck when he was bowled over. Two dark figures went tumbling into a table.

Angel growled, and found himself staring into angry golden eyes. Angry golden eyes that he knew very well. Lorne, Fred, and Willow dragged Buffy away from the snarling vampires who were trying to rend one another with their hands and fangs. The snarls and growls were animalistic and primal, sending shivers down their necks. Lorne produced a loudly colored handkerchief from his pocket and used it to staunch the flow of blood from Buffy's neck.

"Um, when did Spike get all touchy-feely?" Lorne wondered aloud.

"That was me," Willow said distractedly, concentrating on Buffy's newest neck wound. Fred was trying to sort through conflicting emotions, on one hand glad Spike was alright but irritated that Willow had so easily brought Spike back to being when her best efforts had failed so spectacularly.

"It wasn't easy," Willow said, giving the Texan a small smile. "An entire coven and I spent something like three days figuring out a spell that would work. And I don't just mean days, I mean DAYS. 72 full hours." Willow's explanation was cut short by a loud, scary-sounding snarl.

"Dont. EVER. Touch. My. Mate." Spike growled, anger and hatred coating every word. Spike saw when the last shreds of Angel's 'humanity' snapped. Angel's ridges grew bumpier, his fangs actually lengthened, and any shred of sanity fled from behind his amber eyes. Spike snarled as his grandsire ripped into his shoulder, fangs piercing deep into the newly-solidified flesh. With a roar, Spike wrenched his shoulder away. He slipped completely into his demon, letting its rage and anger at the creature that had dared to keep him from his family flow freely.

Spike and Angel fought with single-minded intensity, neither feeling their extensive wounds. Their clothes were in tatters, unable to withstand the force of two Master Vampires fighting a battle to the death; it could end no other way. Angel picked Spike up and slammed him onto the table, glass shards embedding themselves in the younger vamp's back. Spike grabbed a large shard and wielded it like a knife, burying it in Angel's side. The dark vampire roared in pain and Spike twisted the shard and then latched onto his grandsire's exposed neck. Angel snarled and tried to pull away, but Spike wound his legs and arms around him, holding his struggling opponent in place. Vicious satisfaction flowed through Spike as he felt his prey's struggles weaken. angel struggled valiantly as darkness encroached on the edges of his vision. His demon screamed at being dominated by his upstart of a childe, his submissive. But the sting of Spike's unrelenting bite demanded his acquiescence, his abused bod unable to fight against the intense blood loss. Spike shook his head, widening the damage of his bite mark, obliterating everything that had come before, including Darla's sire mark. He growled out his intent, claiming Angel as his submissive, Dominating his 'elder' as he had once been dominated. Angel would never be a threat to his family again.

Spike withdrew his fangs violently as Angel lost consciousness, slumping bonelessly in Spike's arms, his demon no longer fighting. Filled with sire's blood and high from his fight, he pushed Angel's heavy body to the floor and looked for his mate. His nose flared as he scented her blood on the air, amber eyes pinpointing her, shocked green eyes wide at Spike's disheveled and bloody appearance. He growled at his mate, a sound that made Buffy's eyes widen and her heartbeat race.

"Get out," she commanded softy, her eyes never leaving Spike's. She knew the moment he sensed her arousal, her reaction to his signals. Her three friends didn't have long to get out before the Slayer reconnected with her vampire Mate. "Get. OUT." She spoke softly, not wanting to break the fragile spell that kept Spike from ravishing her in front of her friends...and potentially harming their friends in his feral, possessive state. Willow seemed to break out of the trance first. She slowly began edging away from Buffy, flinching when Spike growled threateningly as she pulled Lorne and Fred with her. She gaped when Buffy growled back, taking a challenging step towards Spike, her eyes glowing yellow. Spike smiled through his fangs, then launched himself at Buffy, who met him half way, their bodies colliding in the air.

With a squeak, Fred and Willow dashed towards the exit, Lorne a breath behind them. They paused to consider what to do with Angel, finally electing to take him with them so that Buffy and Spike could conduct their...reunion...in privacy.

Spike inhaled the scent of his mate as she crashed into him, matching his intensity with her own, matching him move for move, as it should be. His equal, his mate. Her clothes shredded under his insistent hands, her bared flesh quickly explored before his need for MORE over took them. He latched onto a nipple, his fangs nicking the tender flesh, her blood a feast on his tongue. She arched into him, demanding more, her fingers scouring his back. Spike ignored her, and found himself pinned to the floor as his impatient mate ripped away the remnants of his pants. She laved a long cut that had reopened during their play, the Slayer savoring the taste of her mate, so long denied. Her hot hand on his cock had him growling in pleasure. He sat up, drawing her legs around him, claiming her luscious lips. She shifted, putting her entrance in line with his thick cock, sinking down onto him. They both gasped in completion, the months of separation making their coupling frantic and fast.

They worked together, the friction building blindingly fast. Spike felt his orgasm building, and sunk his fangs into Buffy's exposed neck. She cried out at the penetration, her muscles clenching around him.

"MINE!" Spike called out, marking his mate, reestablishing the connection between them, and erasing the stink of Angel from her skin. With a sob, Buffy yelled out an ecstatic "Yours!" as she felt the emptiness that had pervaded her since Spike's demise fill, the full force of their connection pouring into the void. Spike nearly sobbed with relief when Buffy reciprocated, her small, sharp teeth breaking the skin of his neck. He returned the claim, and the force of their combined orgasm, echoing through their newly reestablished bond, overloaded their senses, sending them both into an orgasmic coma.

* * *

Buffy groaned as she shifted, feeling muscles pull and protest her movements. What in the world had she done that made her body hate her so much? When the surface she was laying on shifted, everything came flooding back. Her head popped up (much to the dismay of her muscles) and looked into clear blue eyes that had haunted her dreams. 

"Hi," she whispered, almost afraid that he'd disappear if she breathed wrong. She felt giddy when his handsome face stretched into a smile.

"Lo, luv." She smiled, and peppered Spike's face with kisses, savoring their bond and the physical connection. They stayed that way until Buffy started shivering uncontrollably. Gingerly picking their way around the destroyed lab, they discovered a few lab coats and safety boots. Giggling like naughty schoolchildren, the couple went out in search of the others, hand in hand.

"So...what are we going to do about Angel?" Buffy asked, noting that he was no where to be seen. He'd been in no condition to walk on his own, which meant their friends had taken him somewhere. Spike's growl of anger made her shiver, though not in fear.

"I don't think he'll be a problem anymore," Spike informed her, his eyes gold. Spike could feel the other bond he'd forged that day within him, Angel still unconscious and unaware. But what a shock he'd have when he woke up on the submissive end of a Domination Bond. Buffy simply took him at his word.

They found everyone in Angel's office. Fred, Lorne, and Willow were on one side arguing with Gunn and Wesley, Angel's battered form between them.

"You can't expect us to believe that! Angel wouldn't--"

"Whatever you're about to say, he so would!" Buffy interrupted. She **really** didn't want to deal with this right now; she and Spike had a lot of catching up to do. Gunn and Wesley gaped at the appearance of Buffy and Spike, wearing lab coats and looking a little worse for the wear...and not a bit unruffled.

"You're...corporeal," Wesley noted, eying their clasped hands and Spike's many abrasions, which seemed to correlate with Angel's.

"You're observant." Buffy didn't even bother chastising Spike, just rolled her eyes and smiled at Willow.

"We're leaving ASAP," she told the witch. Willow nodded her understanding, pulling out her cell to make a call to the municipal airport. Buffy rounded on the remnants of the Angel Investigations team. "Your boss is on my shit list. Actually, he's not on my shit list. He's on...worse than the shit list. So I don't want to hear it." She glared and Wesley and Gunn, tightening her grip on Spike's hand. "He kept me from my mate and my children from their father. If I see or hear from him ever again, I'll shove a stake into his heart so fast he won't know what hit him. And Wesley!" The ex-Watcher abruptly closed his mouth, rethinking the defense that almost escaped him. "I swear, one word and YOU'LL be on my shit list. You have Giles' number. You could have verified anything Spike said with a phone call, so kiss my ass and stay out of my way. We're leaving. Lorne, Fred, it was nice to see you, you're welcome any time." With that, the fiery Slayer turned and dragged Spike out of the room, intent on getting as far away from this creepy place as she could. Spike and Willow trailed behind her, sharing a knowing look.

Before he knew it, Spike was settled on a special plane with treated windows, showered, in new clothes (though Buffy had promised to find someone who could mend his beloved duster), with a contented Buffy curled on his lap. He started purring, not caring who heard. The memories he'd shared with Buffy during their bonding came filtering back to him, images of his daughter and son bringing tears to his eyes. Buffy lifted her head as his feelings of sadness filtered through the bond.

"I missed so much," he whispered, blue eyes shining with remorse. Buffy smiled at him, her green eyes shining.

"You're here now. Anne's going to be so happy to see you, it's all she talked about when I dropped her off in England. And I can't wait for you to meet William." Spike couldn't staunch the flow of tears as he heard his son's name spoken for the first time. To be honest, he didn't really want to.


	10. Chapter 9

Spike was an exhausted bundle of nerves when the plane taxied into the gate at one of London's very private airports. He was going to see Joyce, Giles, his diminutive brother-in-law...and his children. He was beyond terrified. He leaned backwards as Buffy's arms slipped around his waist. After a moment, he turned in her arms, looking into her loving eyes.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine. Anne was bouncing off the walls when I dropped her off. And Will...he's too much yours not to know who you are." Spike brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and dropped a small kiss on her brow. "And you'll have an hour in the car to be nervous."

"Aaaaaawwwww!" Buffy and Spike broke away from their almost-kiss to see Willow, eyes wide and wet. "You're just so...so...Romeo and Juliet!" Spike vaguely felt like vomiting. "Star crossed lovers reunited."

"Right up until the kill themselves in a comedy of tragic errors, right?" Buffy asked sardonically. Spike looked at his mate askance.

"Have you actually read Shakespeare's play, luv?" Buffy rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder.

"I totally watched the movie! Leo's hot." Spike snorted and pushed her towards the now open door, laughing all the way.

"Figures." They made their way off the plane, walking towards the hanger where a car was supposed to be waiting. Instead, there was a mass of people. Spike froze, his jaw dropped open in amazement.

"DADDY!" A small bundle went flying towards Spike, who oofed as he caught her. "DaddyDaddyDaddyDaddy!" Thousands of little kisses were pressed against Spike's face as Anne exuberantly greeted her father. Spike was still too stunned to move. Willow wrapped a teary-eyed Buffy in a best-friend hug. Anne finally pulled away to look at her dad. "Hi."

"'Lo Bite-Sized," he said, the words sticking in his throat.

"I'm glad you're back." Spike couldn't do anything but bury his face in her jacket, struggling to contain his emotions. The movement seemed to break whatever spell had held the others back. Spike was suddenly surrounded by people.

Andrew made it to him first, still filled with exuberance and a touch of hero-worship, though Dawn was a close second. They jostled with each other for space near Spike, who laughed at the normalcy of their almost sibling-like rivalries. Then came Anya and Xander. Spike was shocked to see the long scar running across Anya's face, but the ex-vengeance demon shrugged it off with a quip about her appearance not hampering her ability to make money. Xander had a Hawaiian-print eye patch on, much to Spike's astonishment. Chris and Jason, not really understanding everything, gave Spike perfunctory hugs before running off to look at the air plane. Faith and Robin had flown in from Chicago on an earlier flight, and looked as tired as Spike felt...but happy. Robin had actually deigned to shake Spike's hand, an unspoken olive branch offered and accepted. Faith had just rolled her eyes at Spike's proffered hand and had drawn the blond vamp into a "Welcome Back to Life" smooch. Buffy had almost doubled over at Spike's dumbfounded expression, and Anne had covered her mouth to try and hide her giggles. There were a gaggle of potentials lined up to shake Spike's hand and give him a hug. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the time Giles and Joyce stepped up to see him, the mass of talking, happy people parting for them.

Giles came up first, his eyes expressing more than even his expansive vocabulary could have. Spike nodded tightly, before pulling his fellow Brit into a tight, manly embrace. Anne, released from her father's arms, ran over to her mother. Giles stepped aside for his wife, who held a small blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. Joyce stepped up to her son-in-law, grateful as he obediently presented his cheek to her. Joyce wrapped one arm around his neck, kissing him softly.

"You've been gravely missed." Spike blinked back tears as he hugged her, mindful of the life between them. When they parted, he finally allowed himself to look at his son.

_He has my eyes_. It was the first thing that came to mind. William...his son, his namesake...smiled up at him. Love bloomed in his heart, but Spike couldn't help but feel a little disconnected. He'd missed to much. Both Anne and William had grown so much; Anne could apparently do things with her mind that no child should be able. His feelings of confusion and being overwhelmed must have filtered through his bond, because Buffy started hustling people to their respective cars.

Spike spent the entire ride cradling Will in his arms, Anne plastered to his side, Buffy on the other. Spike closed his eyes, the scent of his family calming him, though he was still too agitated to sleep. He started as they pulled up to a beautiful house on the outside of London. Obviously a Council-supplied home. He could see touches of Joyce and Giles everywhere. He felt at home, at peace here.

And impromptu party broke out as everyone else arrived. The wine cellar was raided, someone made a run to the corner shop for cheese, crackers, and other snack goods, and Spike was the center of attention. It made him feel odd. He'd spent so much of his time on the fringes, avoiding detection, that being in the limelight seemed wrong. He was grateful when it started winding down, the crowd dwindling to the various members of the Scooby gang, then to the immediate Summers family.

* * *

Spike held his son securely in one arm, still unable to let the boy go. His eyes were tracking Anne as she ran around the room, greeting her various 'aunts' and 'uncles' who were, for the first time in her memory, gathered in one place. And his Mate stood in the middle of them, glowing. she kept shooting him small, joy-filled glances. 

"...and then Fred decided to become a stripper named Flamingo."

"That sounds...wait, what? What's a bloody flamingo have to do with the Giant Forehead?" Lorne laughed down the line.

"Oh, nothing, just seeing if you were paying attention." If Spike had the blood to blush, he would have.

"Yeah, well. Sorry. Look, it's simple. The Ponce was gettin' influenced by that place, someone working major dark mojo. Something's suppressing his soul, bringing out the Grand Wanker in him. Keep him away and lock 'em up for a while. He'll go back to being his own, git-like self in no time. And if he gives you trouble, lemme know."

Spike stamped down his frustration as the phone was passed to Fred. He owed the demure scientist more than she'd ever know, but he wasn't over his forced separation. All he wanted to do was whisk his family away at have them all to himself. But he suppressed those thoughts and concentrated on what Fred was saying. He had time. He had time.

* * *

Angel came to slowly, his body crying out in protest. Everything hurt. He growled as he remembered the last moments of his fight with Spike. How dare the little-- 

Angel gasped as the left side of his neck flared painfully. He froze as he realized what had happened. Spike had Dominated him. Spike! The bite gave another warning pang.

**ANGELUS**. The voice seemed to reverberate through his skull, and the wound on his neck throbbed. Though Spike was thousands of miles away, Angel cowered on his cot, the Dominance Claim demanding his acquiescence. ** YOU WILL NEVER COME NEAR MY FAMILY AGAIN**.**  
**

A part of Angel rebelled at his gradchilde ordering him away from Buffy, who he still saw as rightfully his.

_**SHE IS MINE! **_

The sheer magnitude of Spike's emotional clout, his anger, possessiveness, and the years if abuse levied upon him by his grandsire would have knocked Angel over had he been standing. Angel had no choice but to submit, to silently agree to his Dominant's demands. The newness of the bond and the conditions it had been forged made Angel unable to fight Spike for long.

**YOU WILL STAY AWAY.** Angel gritted his teeth at the command, knowing he would follow them without a fight. After several minutes of silence from Spike's end of the claim, Angel allowed himself to relax. Maybe there was a way around the claim. Spike wasn't near, so the effects should wear off...eventually. He needed to get back to Wolfram & Hart; they would be able to remove the claim, and he could take care of his upstart relative. The thought was immediately followed by a searing, all-body pain.

**THERE WILL BE NO ESCAPE! ** Spike's voice thundered in his head. **YOU WILL STAY IN THIS ROOM UNTIL YOUR TEAM LETS YOU OUT. YOU WILL NOT TRY TO ESCAPE, YOU WILL NOT HARM THEM. YOU WILL BE...DOCILE.** Angel could hear the smirk. He wanted to kill something, cause violence and mayhem, though he wasn't physically capable at the moment.

**YOU WILL HARM NO ONE. EVER.** Angel's demon howled at the pronouncement. His Dominant's proclamation was more binding than his soul. But with time...with time the claim would fade. Unless Spike returned to reinforce it. Spike's voice echoed through his head, less forceful and a bit grudging.

**Listen up, Wanker. I'm watching you. You're in detox, gettin' rid of whatever it is that place did to you. But I'm watchin'. Not plannin' on gettin' close enough to re-up the Dominance Claim, but if you ever hurt my family again, you won't have to worry about that. I promise. So be a good boy, get better, and STAY. ** With that, Spike left Angel's consciousness, though the reminder of his power still throbbed through Angel's neck.

An ocean away, Spike collapsed onto the bed. He purred as Buffy ran her fingers through his hair, her dexterous hands massaging away the tension.

"You tell him?" she asked.

"Yeah," Spike grunted. "Dunno WHY. Shoulda let the wanker stew." Buffy huffed a laugh, leaning over and kissing him lightly on the lips.

"He's out of our lives. For good," she whispered, her warm breath caressing his face. "Would you rather him stew?" Spike grabbed her head and pulled her in for a deeper kiss. She had her answer.

"DADDY!" A pint-sized blur shot onto the bed, making the mattress move and Will to wake up. Spike instantly reached for his fussy bundle of joy as Buffy assured a contrite Anne that no harm was done. It only took a few moments for Will to settle down in his father's arms, giggling as Spike rapidly shifted from vamp-face back to his human visage. Spike looked over and smiled at his daughter.

"He's fine, want to see?" Anne nodded gravely, then gingerly peered over Will's baby blanket. Will grinned, his blue eyes sparkling, and waved his chubby fists in the air. "You're Daddy's little boy, aren'tcha?" Buffy grinned at how unbelievably cute Spike was like this. "Daddy's little boy."

"Da!" Spike froze, his mouth in a perfect 'O.' Buffy gasped, and leaned over his shoulder.

"Did he just say..."

"Da!" Will giggled delightedly at his father's frozen expression. "Da! Da!"

"He...he just...is that?" Buffy looked at her mate, tears in her eyes.

"He just said his first word."


End file.
